


Connections from the Window Frame

by wisteria_prince



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Atsumu cries a lot in this im sorry, Character Study, Friendship, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Mild Language, Post-Break Up, Post-Time Skip, Psychological Drama, Romance, but there is humor and lighthearted moments in the mix, dealing with heartbreak, descriptions of physiological stress, references to alcohol and getting drunk, v atsumu centric w/ much introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26491267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisteria_prince/pseuds/wisteria_prince
Summary: That distant gaze grows familiar and annoying. The image of Shouyou leaving him in the dust is a sort of recurring nightmare Atsumu can’t shake. It’s a specific type of fear: the kind that says Shouyou is heading in a direction Atsumu cannot follow. That’s scary. It’s almost irrational since they have a good thing going.Atsumu hangs on that keyword: almost.———-Walking away from the person he loves is an act Atsumu has no knowledge nor desire to execute. Shouyou does it for him one day and the spiraling changes give birth to a new question: Where does it all go from here?
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020





	1. Rearrange Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaythtr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythtr/gifts).



> Hi there! Happy Atsuhina Exchange everyone! Following my recipient's request, I have combined the prompts angst, post break up study and dealing with heartbreak to write this fic. This piece is certainly longer than I anticipated from outline to draft and while this was made with the intention of being a one shot, I've divided the work into two parts to make it somewhat more manageable to read. 
> 
> Needless to say, it's a bit of a wild ride but I had a lot of fun during the creation period and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: I want to give super special thanks to my dear discord friends @tqowop and @applepi for helping me so much with planning, editing, and revising! This was a labor of love and they really helped make this possible! Now that creator reveals have been announced, pls check end notes for a surprise!

_“If you love someone, you should be willing to let them go. I saw it in a movie somewhere and that’s not to trivialize all of this but I think it still makes sense either way.”_

Atsumu hears this. He’s heard it before. He read it a book years ago at a time where it wasn’t relevant. At a time where he could ignore it. Now it’s back where everything is raw and he wants nothing more than to reject it. It’s not an answer. It’s not an option for a hedonist on the road to pull the emergency brakes. How can anyone expect him to drop everything and become an ascetic at the next intersection? Is it not unrealistic for him to plant his tires into the concrete and stop? To somehow bind himself to the driver’s seat of his car as if the inertia won’t launch him through the windshield?

Yes, he loves someone. 

But why be so masochistic?

Why does he have to throw it all away?

Why was he, out of all people, so easily thrown away?  
  
  


Atsumu Miya considered himself very lucky to be dating Shouyou Hinata. At first anyway. His partner’s personality is vibrant and hot. He blazes through every interaction but the flames of the sun don’t burn. They only uplift and inspire. Atsumu thought he had enough passion of his own until Shouyou waltzed into his life, lighting matches with each step. The fire grows hotter if he stares too long into eyes that shine sweet like honey but the heat is addicting. 

Basking in the warmth that Shouyou radiates alone is fulfilling. For all of Atsumu’s arrogance, he recognizes being at his side as an honor that humbles a man. Grateful doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. Akin to a child witnessing a meteor shower, he could thank every star in the sky for bestowing a kind of energy he didn’t know existed. 

Others in Astumu’s life get to see the same thing, just not through the same rose colored tint. And some of those people need to shut up. Like Kyoomi because contrary to his pessimistic beliefs, they work well together. Omi Omi doesn’t know shit because _god they work so well together._ All the Black Jackals who possess a quarter of a braincell know this. The amount of times Shouyou nails the perfect toss at the perfect angle is immeasurable. Sure, Atsumu is meticulous enough to bring out the best in all his hitters, his partner most certainly included, but that endeavor between the two is mutual. After all, Ninja Shouyou earned that nickname for a reason. His athletic dexterity is a tour de force on all its own but together, the whole really is greater than the sum of its parts. 

There’s a playfulness in their sets deep rooted in trust. Such a lighthearted dynamic existed before feelings were disclosed. With the advent of their relationship, that signature high octane spirit climbed to a higher gear. A level where risky plays turn on a dime but the payoff is euphoric. At their peak, they inhabit a space where an inverse quick improvised on the fly hits harder and more efficiently than any textbook drill or prepackaged plan.

Shouyou has a mighty fine toss that could rival the beauty of that mid air suspension he takes before the set. Both force Atsumu to focus and remind himself that he has to turn his attention to playing and not mindlessly spectating. But he’s glad his partner’s sets are a rarity. If the guy gets too good, he’d be out of a job. Plus, if they did it too often, it’d take away the magic that gets the crowd on their feet and keeps their opponents on their toes. 

_But truly, who doesn’t love a good reversal?_

Playing volleyball with Shouyou is captivating but he’s even more fun off the court. 

Surprisingly, Shouyou is a bit of a romantic. More than Atsumu anyway. Atsumu has dated several people before settling into long term ideals, with relationships spanning in length from a month to a few measly days. Investing into something serious is nevertheless foreign. Fortunately, Shouyou makes it easy most of the time. He texts frequently, much to Atsumu’s delight. He arranges so many of the dates. It kinda makes Atsumu a little jealous that invitations for outings don’t flow as naturally for him. Shouyou even acts as their personal photographer which raises mixed reviews. 

_It’s cute but unnecessary right?_

Atsumu thinks pictures of himself eating are gross. Photos without warning are downright embarrassing and ought not to see the light of day. On the contrary, Shouyou says pictures of his boyfriend eating are cute. Photos without warning are candids that should be cherished, even if they don’t leave the capture gallery. 

According to Shouyou himself, he’s Atsumu’s number one fan. That’s why he has to be his private paparazzi. It takes time getting used to but for once, having so many pictures and videos taken isn’t obnoxious. It makes him feel special. 

Like that one night, when Shouyou crossed that milestone. 

He was the first to say _“I love you.”_

Atsumu is convinced he becomes a performance actor whenever Shouyou takes center stage. He does whatever he can to play it cool despite sweaty palms and a racing heart. But every now and then his façade cracks and he sheepishly pushes along until he can exit stage right, go home and screech into a pillow on his bed because he slipped up. And the further they go the more he slips up and it’s a blessing Shouyou finds stuttering and stammering endearing because lord knows that’s not an attractive look on him. 

Needless to say, those three words he’s waited ages to hear melted him right on the spot. 

It also fueled a sort of competitive edge. Atsumu is compelled to say it more than Shouyou to compensate but not completely at random. Whenever it feels right. Sometimes an “I love you” is exchanged in a text. Sometimes it’s whispered in the middle of a movie neither of them are watching. But on a rare occasion, it’s uttered in a locker room where everyone else has packed up. It’s in those moments where Shouyou smiles and the brightness of his laughter highlights the lovely features of his face. 

And he leans in close and says softly, like a dream

_“I love you too.”_

With volleyball and Hinata, Atsumu can take on the world. He feels like they can do it together because as long as he’s here, they’re invincible.

He felt that way for a while. In truth, Atsumu has played the role of a fool well before becoming anyone’s boyfriend. And a fool might not know when to quit, but even he can tell when something is too good to be true. 

It started with that distance. 

Hinata isn’t a run of the mill romantic. He’s a dreamer. He’s a man with aspirations written on his face. To an outsider, his destination may be abstruse but the fact that he’s going somewhere is crystal clear. It’s perhaps for that reason why Hinata has this prospective look in his eyes. A gaze fixated on the future. The only time it seems like Hinata is living in the present moment is when he’s in a match but he still had that unshakeable, far off gaze back in high school. Back when life was arguably simpler and Atsumu made that stupid promise turned prophecy about tossing to him one day at the spring interhigh. He had this look on his face as if he knew where he was going was beyond the center court everyone covets at that age.

As if he was starting from zero and it was only the beginning. 

Atsumu has no issue with Shouyou’s path to reinventing himself. Without that resolve they may not have met each other. At the very least, Atsumu wouldn’t have been interested in him otherwise. But that damn look in his eyes. It’s there when they go out. Even in their most intimate moments, he can see it and it terrifies him. Where is he going? _What if he leaves?_

Shouyou vanished for a period of time before joining MSBY. Losing him to Brazil wasn’t so painful in retrospect. But the thing is that he came back. He returned better than ever and Atsumu fell deeper than he should have as his setter. 

He wants to banish that distance. Shatter it by offering everything he has to give. 

Atsumu’s memories are hazy but it had to have been the third or fourth game of Shouyou’s career when he couldn’t take it. The match went smoothly but walls built on pride and restraint crashed down. Strong arms wrapped around Shouyou's waist and they collided, the force lifting the unsuspecting man’s feet on the ground. He wasn’t mad and thank god that he rarely is. He just laughed until he felt tears staining his jersey and Atsumu couldn’t explain his own behavior. Instead, through heavy breaths he murmured sweet praise that he’s here. No more confusing time differences and intervals across continents and oceans. No more imagining a warm embrace because _he’s here._ He’ll be here indefinitely but he’s here. 

But not knowing how long it will last is nerve wracking. That distant gaze grows familiar and annoying. The image of Shouyou leaving him in the dust is a sort of recurring nightmare Atsumu can’t shake. It’s a specific type of fear: the kind that says Shouyou is heading in a direction Atsumu cannot follow. That’s scary. It’s almost irrational since they have a good thing going. 

Atsumu hangs on that keyword: almost. 

Drifting away from someone is a silent killer whose presence can be felt without a word of caution. It tugs at his insecurities and breeds paranoia but he can’t show it. But Atsumu isn’t perfect. When flashes of uncertainty surface and he slips, it’s shameful. 

On the off chance it happens, the atmosphere turns awkward and not a word is exchanged. 

The distance has been acknowledged. 

It’s hard but someone has to say something. Someone has to do something. Reaching out to shift the momentum some kind of way is difficult but necessary. 

_How else can they survive if no one says anything?_

Atsumu tried to say something but two calls went straight to voicemail. Not like he knew how to phrase it anyway. Shouyou missing calls is uncommon. Another worry to add to the growing list it seems. 

_One of them has to do something._ Atsumu doubts it’ll be him but relationships are a two way street right?

From the other side of the road, he receives a text from Shouyou in the middle of the night. The brightness of the screen burns his retinas but it’s more tolerable than the discomfort of running hypotheticals in his mind. He doesn’t question why it comes so late because what matters more is the fact that any form of communication is happening. 

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

hey, ‘tsumu-san, I’m sorry it’s late. there’s just a lot on my mind lately. I don’t want to make you nervous but can we talk sometime? 

in person I mean. 

\------

Atsumu types without thinking. 

_Shou-kun, what’s wrong?_

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

it’s nothing. I can explain the details later but is it okay if we can meet soon? 

_of course!! when do ya wanna talk?_

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

when is good for you?

_I asked you first. I’m free whenever ya need me._

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

is tomorrow after practice okay? there’s a park nearby. I wanna go somewhere quiet if that’s alright. 

_I’ll see ya then._

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

thanks so much for understanding!! goodnight!!

_wait wait, did somethin happen? u okay??_

Shouyou types for a while. That bubble icon popping in and out of frame isn’t reassuring. His phone vibrates again. 

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

Im fine ‘tsumu-san. get some sleep okay?

That’s not reassuring either. It has the potential to make Atsumu more restless than any all nighter ever could. But Shouyou is an honest guy. Whatever he says is true so he must be fine. Right? 

_K. Gn!!_

\-------

It’s not a pleasant night at all but it’s okay. They’re fine. 

The clearing of the neighboring rock garden is lovely. Not as gorgeous as the sunlight beaming through orange locks of Shouyou’s hair but nature is calming. City folks can call Atsumu a country bumpkin all they want. Back in Hyogo he could breathe in crisp autumn air in place of pollution. Osaka is as metropolitan as Kansai gets but even it has little wonders hidden away. 

The scenery is great but the water in the stone pond is stagnant. 

A bond of interlacing fingers feels so loose the wind could pull it apart. 

Something is off. 

He felt it when he sat on the old bench off the pavement. When he moved to put an arm around Shouyou and the smaller man’s shoulders tensed. Something else shifted aside from his boyfriend’s weight because one of the most confident guys he knows starts talking in circles. 

Maybe the fear is contagious because Shouyou trembles like it’s winter and Atsumu reaches to hold hands that don’t want to be touched. Those fingertips tremble until they don’t. Until Shouyou balls them into fists and stops repeating a prelude of a melody once unspoken. 

“I think we should take a break for awhile.” 

“A...A break?”

Shouyou nods slowly. 

“Just to figure things out. I mean, I don’t wanna carry anything out when my head’s not too clear like this so, why don’t we step back a bit?”

Atsumu doesn’t know if Shouyou can hear it. The sound of strings snapping. 

“I’m sorry but did I do somethin’ wrong? I know I mess up plenty but you’d tell me if I did wrong wouldn’t ya?”

“I would and it’s not like that Atsumu-san.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just-okay look, I don’t know but things feel weird to me and it’s not you. I just wanna think about it on my own for a while.”

“Whaddya want me to do then? When we’re...on this break?”

“I don’t know. I know we’re sort’ve drifting but let’s take a bit more space okay?”

“But…”

But those eyes. Those misty, future bound eyes reflect uncertainty and Atsumu can’t tell if that’s actually on Shouyou’s end or his own worrisome thoughts. 

Regardless, it doesn’t matter. 

There will be no sudden moves to push him further away. 

Atsumu pushes with enough questions and sorts through non answers but it is what it is and a break can be manageable. It means there’s still hope. 

He accepts this version of the inevitable. He has no choice but he loves Shouyou too much to be overbearing. Not on purpose anyway. He’s not quite sure what a break means but tries not to get too hung up over exact definitions. In his mind, it’s another chance. A single shot to prove what’s crumbling is salvageable. 

Time heals all wounds. Or so they say. 

Apparently, going off season in a relationship means not talking as much which feels strange. On especially sappy nights, they used to chat on the phone until one of them grew sleepy enough to nod off. That’s completely off the table. It’s hard getting Shouyou to respond to texts, not that Atsumu should be sending them. One word responses and read receipts from such a bubbly person hurt but absence supposedly makes the heart grow fonder. Shouyou probably misses him anyway but doesn’t know how to say it. 

Or he’s doing whatever he can to forget him. He’s never known Shouyou to be like that. Then again, he’s beginning to question whether or not he knows Shouyou at all and that’s… that’s not normal. 

Speaking of the unusual, volleyball is weird lately. Atsumu finds himself engaging in what the other Black Jackals call ‘desperation plays.’ There’s moments where a toss is better spent using Kyoomi or Bokuto for the attack but he keeps sending it to Shouyou. It’s almost like he has a message attached to those passes. Like he’s trying to convey for whatever shortcomings he has in private, he’s still reliable in public. _He’s still useful._

Selfish motivations have no place in a team sport. They result in predictable offense, missed opportunities, and compounding errors. Atsumu is well aware of the consequences so to mitigate the damage he’ll alter his sets. Making a toss easy to hit is his job but something about these new renditions feel incomplete. These aren’t tosses that are perfect because they naturally maximize his favorite opposite hitter’s skillset. They’re ‘perfect’ because he has an added pressure to make them that way. 

Simultaneously, it works and it doesn’t. 

He misses Shouyou.

From Kyoomi’s point of view, that’s not information the world needs to know through piss poor performance. He can only bite his tongue and agree. 

Reading social media posts after an official match doesn’t help. Everyone is talking about him. Not everyone but there’s too many threads that reference odd choices Atsumu made on the court to count. As he scrolls, a handful of commentaries are trending. If a couple of scrubs wanna talk shit like their opinions matter, so be it. None of the guys complaining are in the big leagues anyway so it’s not like they even know what they’re talking about. 

_Buncha smartass backseat drivers._

_Wait._

> **[redacted] @msbyy4691012**
> 
> big fan speaking here but MSBY’s no. 13 was a little off today. 
> 
> for a setter, his offense was weak. I dunno but something
> 
> was funky ya know? thoughts?
> 
> 192⟲ 1,673♡

**Tobio Kageyama @tkag920**

he played like a goody two shoes.

865⟲ 10.6k♡

Atsumu squints at the reply. He doesn’t need to check the profile it spawned from to know it’s real. The comment’s too specific for it not to be. His blood boils as he stares at it. That name. He hasn’t heard it in a hot minute. Hasn’t seen the guy in months. He could’ve swore they settled business when the Black Jackals handled the Adlers. 

Tobio Kageyama. 

_Who the hell does he think he is?_

Of course Bokuto and Kyoomi find the situation funny. He shouldn’t have sent them the link to this nonsense in the first place. Those stupid engagement numbers keep going up. He has to put a stop to this but how? DMs? And get that posted too because Tobio has no shame? _Hell no._ A reply of his own? But what? How does anyone come back from _that?_ More than half of these people don’t even know what those words mean. He’s never mentioned it to him before but Shouyou probably knows. 

_Oh god, has Shouyou seen Kageyama’s post?_

He probably has. They’re undoubtedly mutuals. Those two have history. Well, more than history but Atsumu doesn’t care to expand on things that are unnecessary like the past. 

Maybe he can ask Shouyou for help or at least rant about it. Except he can’t. 

Forget it. A blow to his pride doesn’t exactly equal a blow to his reputation. 

But asking Shouyou is a different matter entirely. It’s stupid but it’s an excuse to message him. 

He grits his teeth and fights against the urge. 

How long has it been? Atsumu stopped counting the weeks. 

Time heals all wounds. _That’s bullshit._ Time is making it fester. Time is making it worse and he’s sick of it. He’s sick of worrying and waiting and getting lost and _feeling lost._ It’s a losing battle. No, it’s not. It’s just a break but he feels like he’s losing something. 

Atsumu hovers over Shouyou’s name in his contact list. 

A single message to cure the monotony. That’s not so bad right? 

But what can he say? It’d be rude to start something when he doesn’t even know how Shouyou has been. What’s on his mind? Is he okay? 

_ >Are you okay? _

He deletes it as quickly as the question comes to mind. That’s too much. He needs to stop himself before he does something he regrets. But it does make him wonder. Makes him want to hear Shouyou’s voice or see some indication that he’s fine and not thinking what Atsumu fears:

This is the beginning of the end. 

It won’t be long. 

Shouyou Hinata is going to cut the strings that bind them as one. 

He’s going to break up with him and all Atsumu can do is brace himself for the split. 

That’s why he has to ask. He must ask because for the first time, he needs someone to prove him wrong. He needs Shouyou to take those theories of his and throw them away with some form of closure. 

He types because he needs to know. 

_ >Are we okay? _

No. No, they’re on break. He shouldn’t be doing this. He needs to trust Shouyou’s judgement and give him space to breathe. But it’s so tempting and he’s so alone but he shouldn’t. 

He slips. His thumb does precisely and the mistake makes him recede into the blankets on his bed. 

It’s too late to turn back. 

_Are we okay?_

**(Read at 1:34)**

That was fast. Instantaneously so. Shouyou is awake. 

_Why is he up now?_

Atsumu wants to know that too but one answer at a time. So he waits. And waits. Minutes become hours and he waits. His stomach twists in knots. He’s sick of waiting but he needs to know why so he lays there yawning and but his phone doesn’t light up without pressing the home button himself. 

His mind tries waiting longer but his body gives out. 

Waking up is disorienting. His alarm won’t stop blaring but a glance at the time on his lock screen proves he slept through the first two. Being behind schedule is whatever. Three missed notifications from Shouyou are far more important. 

He messaged him when the first alarm should have gone off. 

_Was that planned? Did he do that to spite him?_

No. It’s too early in the morning for either of them to be vindictive. 

Moreover he’s not like that. 

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

yea?? I don’t know but I hope we are!! I’m doing alright btw its just things have been jumbled up in my mind so im sorting all that out

Im sorry btw. I know i havent been really clear on things but really tho im okay. I hope you are too and that youre not mad at me for all this

it’s been awhile since we’ve seen each other too. outside of practice i mean. If you want, maybe we could hang out sometime?

\-------

Atsumu is not okay. But an invitation could make things better. 

  
  


_don’t worry, I could never be mad at ya. but yea, I’d like that_

The read receipt arrives immediately.

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

okay. When do you want to meet up?

_what are ya doing today?_

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

oh, I kinda have plans today sorry!!

_okay so what abt tomorrow?_

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

Hmmmm…..maybe??

i have to see but i might be able to rearrange some things around for you. I’ll let you know by tonight if I can okay?

_K._

\-------

The rest of the day chugs along uneventfully. His morning run and conditioning are the same as always. He calls himself pitching in at the onigiri shop despite Osamu’s complaints that he’s only there for free food and ranting about everything under the sun. That may be true but how’s he supposed to concentrate on being helpful when literally no one is helping him? Besides, he can’t focus on anything until he figures out where Shouyou’s head is and when his reply is coming. 

The sun sets and Osamu kicks him out. Atsumu got some fatty tuna out of the situation so his clone isn’t complete trash he supposes. 

His apartment is quiet in the evening. Quiet enough to hear the bathroom faucet leaking and the noise drives him crazy like obnoxious cheering before a jump float serve. He jerks the handle and lets the water run hot to inhale the steam and watch the condensation cloud the mirror. It stings the flesh of fingertips so he has to cool it before the stream is adequate to wash his face. 

The fog dissipates and he’s left with a reflection of his own exhaustion. 

The window houses an indigo sky. 

Nightfall isn’t far off. A towel covers drenched hair as droplets collect on a cracked screen protector. 

_ >are we good for tomorrow? _

He erases the text. It’ll come off as desperate. He hates appearing desperate. 

If Shouyou is busy he should just hurry up and say so dammit. 

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

atsumu-san, we’re good to go. But only for the afternoon. I have somewhere to be before sundown okay?

_cool. I ain’t got any ideas for what we could do but im down for whatever ya want._

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

okay. I’ll think of something later I promise 

see you at Mito Station at 12:30?

_sounds good._

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

alrighty, see you then 

_Shou-kun?_

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

?

_ >I miss you. _

No, not that. Make it less forward. 

_looking forward ta seeing ya tomorrow. I really am._

**[Shouyou** **♡** **]**

It’ll be good to see you too. Have a nice night!

\----------

Sleep doesn’t not come easily but the breeze through the bedroom window is gentle. 

The date is weird. Although, Atsumu can’t call it a date in good faith since he doesn’t know what they are to each other anymore. Less than lovers. More than friends. The middle ground is a new frontier of headaches and a whirlwind of emotions unexpressed. 

But if there’s anything Atsumu hates the most, it’s being pitied. The indifference coming off of Shouyou is subtle but he can sense it. 

_If he didn’t want to hang out, why lie in the first place?_

Out of respect and self discipline, he avoids touching Shouyou at all costs. In lieu of that, he anxiously taps his fingers to his sides with the yearning of a coffee connoisseur going through withdrawals. He’s still not sure what a break means but he wants to do it right. 

There is no spark upon the two brushing shoulders in the rush hour train car bound for residential districts. Atsumu does spot a bittersweetness in Shouyou’s eyes when he gets off at his stop. 

Perhaps pitiful isn’t the right way to describe the day at all. 

Volleyball is a contact sport. Every play is about making connections. Someone should tell that to Shouyou when he slams down a kill shot and Atsumu holds his hand out into dead air for a high five. It goes unnoticed with Shouyou moving back to his position.

Before Atsumu can open his mouth to speak, Bokuto returns the high five instead. 

_The hell?_

“Nice toss!!” Bokuto exclaims as Atsumu examines his own red stinging palm and his teammate in disbelief. 

“But ya didn’t- I mean, yer not the one who uh- ya know?” Bokuto pats him on the back, emphasizing the gesture with hearty laughter. 

“I know!! I didn’t wanna leave you hangin’ Tsum Tsum!!”

“Right,” he says, giving a feeble smile. Kyoomi is watching from the bench but he’s sure the bastard is snickering underneath that surgical mask. 

_Less than 10 minutes into practice and everyone’s a comedian huh?_

Atsumu doesn’t make other attempts to cheer Shouyou on aside from standard comments of praise for solid digs and powerful spikes. His reactions are lukewarm at best but it’s better than being flat out ignored. 

Forgoing expectations of reciprocity is challenging but it has its own rewards. One of them is realism. Another is the possibility of a pleasant surprise. 

Life is full of gambles but Atsumu never would have bet on receiving a phone call later on. They don’t talk about much. In a bashful tone, Shouyou just says he wanted to see how hearing his voice like this would sound. Atsumu jokingly asks if he’s some kind of experiment to him and for the first time in a while he’s able to make Shouyou laugh. 

They’re still on hold but it seems like a step in the right direction.   
  


It happens on a chilly evening in the outskirts of the city.

Neon signs for 8-Eleven flicker and light reflects through puddles on the pavement as Atsumu flips through a few sports magazines displayed on the newspaper rack. Advertisements for Power Curry and Bouncing Ball Corporation amongst other companies color pages in between interviews and media coverage. Reading up on information he already knows about MSBY and seeing an all too familiar photoshoot of Jackasuke greeting fans is surreal. The lack of Onigiri Miya content however, is disappointing. He places the magazine back and shakes his head. 

He’s out here making a name for himself. Osamu better start catching up as any good sponsor would.

Refrigerator lights from the drink aisle of the convenience store are bright and the air from opening the frosted glass door is cool to the touch. Two bottles of water and a green tea go in the basket next to protein bars and a cup of caramel pudding. Atsumu contemplates whether or not he’d rather grab a warm yuzu lemon drink instead. Speaking of that, Shouyou is probably still at that end of the store since he mentioned something about hot food coming in here. Oden isn’t a bad idea right now but there’s a fair amount of options. 

Atsumu takes a peek at the register, perplexed to find Shouyou has vanished, replaced by a few salarymen and high schoolers waiting patiently in line. 

_He was literally just there. Where could he have gotten off to so fast?_

“Pssst!! Tsumu-san!” 

“Ah!!” Atsumu jumps, embarrassed to learn his voice could shift octaves like that while nearly knocking over a whole shelf of hard alcohol behind him. He didn’t even hear the guy’s footsteps but blinks and _bam_ , he’s there. 

_They really do call him Ninja Shouyou for a reason._

“Shou-kun ya scared me!” he stammers. “Look at whatcha almost made me do!” He can sense the other customers staring at the two of them so he makes a mental note to lower his voice. The last thing he needs to see on television is _National Volleyball Stars cause Ruckus in Local Convenience Store_ or some other kind of gossip headline. Osamu would never let him live it down. 

“I’m sorry! I came over here to let you know that the meat buns are on sale! Do you want one?” Excitement shines through Shouyou’s tone of voice and it’s cute to see him this pumped over food. 

“Sure,” Atsumu says. “I’ll get whatever yer havin.” 

“I’m in the mood for curry though.”

“That’s fine. Get two of ‘em then.” 

“But you don’t even like spicy food!” Shouyou knows this because he’s seen Atsumu sweat profusely in all his runny nose glory from adding too much chili pepper to yakitori or udon. In truth, his spice tolerance is abysmal but Shouyou doesn’t know if that’s changed recently. 

“Like I said, it’s fine. I’ve been tryin’ some new things lately. I can handle it.” 

_That’s an absolute lie that ought to make things interesting._ Shouyou furrows his brow before softening his features, taking the basket of drinks and snacks from Atsumu. “Alright then! I’ll go ahead and check out.” 

“Wait,” Atsumu says, reaching into his pocket for a bank note. “This should be enough to cover my stuff.” Shouyou shakes his head. 

“Nope. You paid for the last time we did this so today it’s my treat.”

Atsumu can’t remember what ‘last time’ refers to and is nonetheless a bit taken aback that he’d bring that up. “Well, if you insist,” he says through a yawn, stretching his arms overhead. “I’m gonna go wait for ya out front m’kay?” Shouyou smiles. 

“Okay I’ll be out shortly~” 

Shouyou tried to warn him. _Oh god, why didn’t he listen?_

The curry bun is hot and he immediately chokes on the first bite but manages to swallow. Rustling of a plastic bag and Shouyou fretting over the ordeal carry through the gentle sunset breeze. Atsumu unscrews the cap of a water bottle and starts chugging. 

“No no Atsumu-san!! Water makes it worse!! You should drink milk to make it better!” Atsumu stops himself shy of doing a full on spit take and wipes his chin, panting. 

“Milk? Does it look like we bought any milk?!” 

“I can go get you some out of the vending machine in the alleyway,” Shouyou says, motioning to the sidestreets illuminated by a lone street lamp. “Give me just a sec and I can-”

“Nah, stay put Shou-kun. I’m trying new things. Besides,” Atsumu says, leaning into the backrest of the bench they’re sitting on. “a little pain doesn’t take away from the fact it still tastes great!” Shouyou laughs as he peels the parchment off his own to enjoy it. 

“By the way,” Atsumu continues. “Thanks. Damn near forgot my manners.” 

“Oh no of course! You don’t really have to thank me though,” Shouyou says. “Just returning a favor.”

Atsumu has no clue how long ago that ‘favor’ was but doesn’t care. It’s the same mentality he has towards the curry burning his throat. Red and gold leaves gather at their feet as crows cry out from above, traveling down power lines and nesting atop utility poles. The wind whistles through low hanging branches and the mood is eerily calm. 

For a moment it feels like the good old days. 

Peace is interrupted by the crumpling of paper and a single shaky inhale. 

“So, you know how I texted you to come out here?” 

“Mm hm.” Atsumu is still eating but Shouyou has finished. His partner takes a sip of water and exhales audibly. He turns and looks Atsumu in the eyes with a gaze that does not cut but locks on target. 

“There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll try to be quick. I think…. I think we need to break up.” 

_What?_

Nausea outweighs the burning sensation on his tongue. 

“Shouyou. No. Yer kidding.”

He has to be. Today felt fine. Everything was fine. More than that even but no no no, this isn’t right. It’s not supposed to be like this.

“You could feel it right?” Shouyou asks, fidgeting with his hands. ‘When things changed?” 

“Yeah of course. But we went on break and got away from each other so we could fix things! That’s what breaks do! They’re about fixing things!! _I can fix things!!_ ” 

“It’s not about fixing anything. It’s about knowing when things feel off and trying something new. Going on break helped me realize this is the best thing for me.”

Tension seizes the pit of his stomach and his chest tightens. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be. 

“What did I do wrong Shouyou?”

The silence is deafening. Maddening. 

“Answer the question. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s not about that Atsumu-san.”

“Then start talking. Explain this to me because I don’t-” His voice cracks and he’s trying so hard not to raise it again. “I don’t understand. I don’t get it.” 

He can’t read Shouyou’s face. It’s hard to read into anything with blurred vision exacerbated by a reality he’s been denying for so long. But despite his vulnerability on display, Shouyou watches on.

It’s sickening.

“I’m saying that I can’t string you along like this forever. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” 

So that’s what this is? 

The catalyst isn’t a mistake. 

It’s not a blunder within his locus of control.

It’s apathy. 

Shouyou sighs. 

“I know this is hard to hear. But I really think this is for the best. Believe me, I don’t want to do this either-”

“Then don’t.” Atsumu’s words cut like steel yet his nerves shatter like glass. 

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t give up on us.” 

“I don’t- I’m not giving up I-” Shouyou falters for a bit before finding hidden resolve. “I feel like we’d make better friends. We’ll be okay, Atsumu-san. We will.” 

“I won’t be okay.” Countless amounts of sleepless nights and puffy eyes suggest otherwise. 

“It’s gonna be really hard at first but I think we will.”

He’s known him for years but Atsumu doesn’t recognize the person across from him. That realization makes his body ache and grow cold because Shouyou wouldn’t hurt him like this. Shouyou isn’t detached enough to watch someone cry without an effort to console them. Shouyou always dries his tears and builds his confidence anew. 

He’s about to lose touch with his Shou-kun and become reacquainted with the stranger Hinata. And it’s happening too soon. 

Shouyou is quiet because he can hear it. The snapping of strings. 

After all this time, there’s no way Atsumu can remain calm.

“Heh. I knew it. I knew you’d do this to me so why not sooner? You wanted the time to be right? For everything to crash down on me like this?”

Atsumu directs scathing cynicism to a lot of people but not Shouyou. That territory used to be off limits. They’re not kids anymore but the way Shouyou caves in on himself makes him look small. 

“Atsumu-san I didn’t know yet!” he shouts. “I really didn’t until we spent time apart! And now I’ve been trying to tell you but I didn’t know how. I was afraid.” 

Wooden planks creak as Shouyou rises from the bench. 

“Maybe it was stupid to think so but I wanted our last day together to be okay. I hoped I could do this in a way that wasn’t so painful but I guess I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry.” 

_Why apologize if you don’t mean it?_ It’s an awful thought left unsaid as Atsumu buries his head in his hands and digs at the roots of dyed hair with his fingernails. He can hear Shouyou murmur something and pauses to listen. 

“Please. I just want you to know that I do believe in us. So this is it.”

The starting line is drawn. It marks Shouyou’s new beginning and Atsumu’s end. It establishes the distance he failed to destroy. 

“I...I do have to go now,” Shouyou says solemnly. Regret is painted on his crestfallen stance but it’s an act Atsumu doesn’t buy. “But before I go, I have something for you.” he says, reaching into his pocket. 

Another meat bun rests on the empty seat next to the abandoned half eaten one. A quick glance at the label on the packaging reveals it isn’t curry. It’s the one Atsumu would’ve gotten if he wasn’t a fool in asking for food he can’t eat. If he hadn’t thought of impressing Shouyou over something so insignificant. 

“It’s your favorite.” 

Perhaps it’d be nice if he had the appetite for it. He’s willing to guess it won’t come back for awhile. 

With a wave and a soft goodbye, he’s gone. Atsumu doesn’t utter a word to chase after him. The lump in his throat is too strong. They ride separate train lines home in opposite directions. It’s better this way. Atsumu has to tell himself that the entire ride so he doesn’t break down in public. 

It’s better this way. 

_It sure as hell don’t feel like it is._

  
  
  
  



	2. when talking is for functioning people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let the real post break up study begin :,^)

In due time, texts from Shouyou flow in that Atsumu skims but doesn’t have the energy to read. He keeps saying something about clothes and it doesn’t click until Osamu drops a box by his apartment. Atsumu cuts into the cardboard with his locker room keys to find old shirts, somehow pristine folded and pressed. None of them give off the scent of oranges that lingers on everything Shouyou wears. It all smells like dry cleaning. 

They don’t handle the logistics of the breakup in relation to the team like adults. They deal with it like teenagers which means not really saying much at all. It shows. Atsumu couldn’t foresee the fact that volleyball would become real work that requires a new kind of grit. Using Hinata is a battle of mental debate that errs on the side of ‘ _no’_ much more than a resounding ‘yes.’ It’s not that he has no desire to include him in synergized strategy but whenever he sends a toss his way it’s forceful. Excess power into the ball changes the parabolic arc, speed, and adjustments that must be made in order to drive it over the net. 

Missing straights and overshooting crosses are Shouyou’s new normal so why not choose someone more consistent?

A whiffed attempt at a minus tempo attack and a whistle later, Bokuto speaks up. 

“Tsum Tsum, c’mere a sec,” he says, ushering him close. Bokuto drapes an arm over his shoulder and covers the side of his mouth with a hand as if he’s about to share sensitive information.

“Your tosses to Shouyou are a little rough don’t you think?” Atsumu has half a mind to argue it’s Shouyou’s fault that he can’t get his shit together but he doesn’t. 

“That ain’t why he can’t hit ‘em like he used ta do,” Atsumu mutters, catching a glimpse of Shouyou staring in their vicinity before lowering his head. 

How pathetic. 

“I’m sure that’s kinda true but you should make them a little less aggressive maybe? That way it’ll line up more with Shouyou’s spike point?” Bokuto’s voice isn’t low enough to register as a whisper but has the soft quality of a man trying not to say something directly to a person’s face. Even if it’s solid advice from the ace, it’s unsolicited. 

“Look, if ya got a problem with how _he’s_ messing up today, why dontcha-”

“No, he’s right. Dial it back Miya.”

Most of the time Bokuto gives a critique, it can be written off as a suggestion, but when Captain Meian co-signs that suggestion, it’s an order. Atsumu’s a perfectionist through and through so he’s used to making course corrections but god does he hate being told what to do. 

It doesn’t help when his so-called partner doesn’t have the mindset to cooperate. In the midst of reviewing the playbook, Shouyou snuck off to the bathroom. Rather, that’s Atsumu’s guess at what the guy mumbled before ducking out. He disappears longer than usual and for a brief moment it makes Atsumu worry but he doesn’t check on him. 

That’s not his place to do so anymore.

One peculiar thing about Atsumu is that he doesn’t really care for sentimentality. Clinging to nostalgia is a cheap road to happiness for people who believe they peaked in the past. That ideology morphed into a creed over time: _We don’t need memories._ He keeps the high school banner hung up on his bedroom wall, ironically as a reminder. Plenty of people from Inarizaki to newscasters for national tournaments have seen the slogan and admonished it for being too harsh. He used to scoff at their own idealism and rarely second guessed his team’s misunderstood motto until he encountered Karasuno, a school forever chasing after the boundless sky with the mindset that their history is what shapes them. 

A notification for a memory of a year old photoset flashes on his phone. It’s pictures of him and Osamu greeting Shouyou at the airport. He remembers how they ran to that platform to catch the limited express train to get there on time and how much he begged his brother to make lunch for the three of them, not that he had to ask. He remembers mingling with Shouyou’s other friends who were also waiting for him to emerge through those arrival gates. A particular keyframe shows the twins on either side of the man with an effervescent glow. 

As Atsumu scrolls through his camera roll, it dawns on him. 

He wasn’t very good at documenting his last relationship. The ratio of photos taken to content saved on his gallery doesn't add up evenly because, well, Shouyou handled that. He took all those videos that he might not be able to see anymore. 

What if they’re gone?

_What if he needs those memories?_

Not caring about sentimentality isn’t peculiar by itself. It’s only strange when cognitive dissonance seizes idle thoughts and he finds himself grasping for an old philosophy that tells him to reject the past. 

Has he truly changed? Or is this new outlook an illusion shrouded in regret?

It’s too much to think about in solitude. 

Atsumu picked a good time to visit the onigiri shop. There isn’t much commotion if any so he can easily vent out his troubles without any strangers picking up on clues. Glass of oolong hai in one hand, phone in the other he browses through social media. Shouyou didn’t waste time changing his relationship status and following suit wasn’t hard but then there’s the issue of all these posts. They’re gratuitous and it seems like for every photo Atsumu didn’t take, there’s some paragraph rambling about highlights with his now ex. The photos themselves are a different story. Grainy selfies and high resolution portraits litter his private account, images he used to be so proud of and shamelessly paraded at the off chance an old friend asked if he was single. 

He didn’t know the joy of having them would expire. All those likes and comments were empty from the start. It makes his head spin. 

A slap on the counter snaps him out of it. 

“Oi 'Tsumu! Ya didn’t come here to just mope around and waste food did ya?”

_It’s nice to see ‘Samu as lively as ever during a slow business hour._

“Nah nah, I’ll dig in,” Atsumu says between a huff, setting his phone down to wipe his hands with a towel and pick up an onigiri from the basket in front of him. The rice is warm, sticking to the sheet of seaweed wrapped around it and a bite into the center of well seasoned fish leaves steam rising in the cold winter air. Osamu quitting volleyball for the food industry wasn’t completely out of left field like he used to think. His cooking is a humble work of genius. 

“Glad to see you’re a fan but you can order things other than fatty tuna ya know,” Osamu says, pressing another handful of rice into a triangle. Atsumu sips his shochu tea and smirks. “I know,” he says coyly. “It just happens to be the only good one on the menu.”

“Oh shut yer trap! That ain’t how a leech getting free eats should talk.” Seeing the guy lose his cool never gets old. 

“I’m kiddin’,” Atsumu mumbles through a mouthful of food. He couldn’t be serious about bashing any of the onigiri if he tried. It’s a simple craft, a bit boring for his tastes but he can tell when Osamu’s passionate about something. Chalk it up to twin intuition or any other pseudo scientific theory that neither of them believe. 

Bonito flakes dance to the rhythm of steam piping off another order. 

Maybe it’s high tide to mix it up next time. 

“There ya go,” Osamu says, pointing at Atsumu’s plate. “Yer appetite coming back?”

One rice ball down. He’s on his second faster than he anticipated. 

“Slowly,” Atsumu replies. “Yeah. Slowly I guess.” Admittedly, his eating habits have been all over the place but he’ll regulate them. He checks his phone for the time and grimaces at the wallpaper he hasn’t changed. 

“Say ‘samu?” he asks. His brother hums as he folds a to-go box for a katsuobushi and soy sauce special. “Did you notice anything different? About Shouyou I mean. Like any signs that would’ve told you something was up?”

Sprinkles of furikake coat a few plain ones placed in a separate take out box. 

“Can’t say I saw a big difference on Shouyou’s end. As for you,” he trails off, reaching under the counter for a bag. “You started talking about him less. That’s it. It was kinda surprising since you never shut up so I figured you were either planning to take things forward or move several steps back.”

Come to mention it, Atsumu started posting less about the relationship on his private account too. Saccharine words faded before the concept of a break came up, replaced by impressions of practice and silent bouts of nothing. _How much has he been hiding? How long did he internalize it?_ He searches for the answer but swipes up to another annoying picture: the last one they took since everything went downhill. 

“Goddammit!” 

Osamu does not flinch as Atsumu curses, probably since he’s used to it. That on top of the fact he’s checking out the last customer in the shop at the register. 

“God I don’t know what I’m doing,” Atsumu groans, anxiously ruffling his hair. An attempt to lie on the table culminates in a minor self inflicted injury which warrants another yelp. 

“Oi, don’t bang your head on the counter like that Tsumu! You’ll chip the paint and I ain’t taking ya to the hospital for a concussion!” He can hear Osamu tell his clientele to pay him no mind since he can’t whisper for shit. 

The shoji screen shuts and the restaurant feels bigger since it’s just the two of them. 

“Can’t you see I’m in pain?!” Atsumu exclaims, rubbing his temples. 

“About what? All these photos ya been staring at?” Osamu asks. 

“Yes of course it’s the photos!! They’re stressing me out!” 

“Then stop looking at them.” Atsumu frowns at the deadpan reaction. 

“I would if I could but I can’t!!” 

His glass is near empty, more ice than liquid. Another disappointment. 

“Samu. Get me another drink,” he whines. He’s already a little buzzed but one more wouldn’t hurt. Osamu snatches the glass from a lazy hand and flips a switch on the tap. 

“Here,” he says. “And would it kill ya to use the coasters? I bought those things for a reason and it ain’t for you to damage the counter.” The contents of the drink are clear but Atsumu doesn’t care to inspect it. “Whatever. You really gotta work on your presentation though. I mean, I can go to any izakaya ‘round here and they’ll have the decency to add a slice of lemon to this or somethin.”

Dish soap lathers plates clinking in the sink basin. Osamu pushes up his sleeves to scrub at the mess.

“We’re fresh outta lemons.” Atsumu pouts.

“The least you could’ve done is salted the rim of this thing.”

A salt shaker slides across the counter stopping short of the corkboard coaster he refuses to use. 

“What the hell is this supposed ta be?"

“DIY.”

“DIY?” Atsumu repeats as Osamu adds his plate to the wash pile.

“Yeah. Do-it-yerself.”

“Oh very funny ‘Samu.” _No wonder he’s the only one in here. Customer service sucks._

The drink is unorthodox but refreshing. Atsumu is a lightweight so he’s not terribly keen on alcohol but once in a blue moon he’ll indulge a little to take the edge off. So far it’s working. Whatever Osamu whipped up goes down easy without a fight as if it’s not liquor at all. 

Wait. 

It’s….water. 

“Hey this ain’t booze! You tricked me!” Atsumu yells, slamming his fist down in disgust. “Of course I did,” Osamu retorts, moving wet dishes to the drying rack. “You’re not getting drunk off yer ass in here. I got a strict no puking rule in my restaurant.” 

“I’m not even that drunk.” Atsumu’s face is flush but he’s right. 

“Good. Keep it that way.” As a reward, Osamu drops a toothpick umbrella to float on the surface of Atsumu’s ‘get sober or get out’ beverage, a staple in the Miya household. 

Ice melting in a glass and a deep dive into old photo sets precedes another sour mood. Atsumu can see his brother tidying diligently out of his periphery and honestly wouldn’t mind straightening out cupboards or sweeping the floor if he got him off of his phone. He knows it’s not healthy or cathartic to punish himself by dwelling on the way things were but something nags at him to keep searching. Keep living in a dream because reality is cruel. 

“You know,” Osamu murmurs, “After you delete the first one, it’ll be easy to get rid of the rest. If that’s what you want anyway.” Atsumu wonders how true that is and how he could say it in such an offhand way. 

“You really think so?” Food scraps from a dustpan are dumped into a garbage can. 

“The way I see it,” Osamu says, “if it makes you uncomfortable, don’t think about it too much. Just start gettin’ rid of ‘em.”

A finger hovers over the trash icon for a fairly innocuous one. It’s an image of a rather sleepy Shouyou eating a bowl of tamago kake gohan. It’s pretty meaningless in the grand scheme of things but the timestamp above it makes everything as clear as if it were yesterday. 

It was the first time Shouyou spent the night at his apartment.

They did something silly the night before. Karaoke. Yes, they sang until they had to run for the midnight train and Atsumu was so nervous about preparing a place for Shouyou to sleep. All those worries were for nothing when he passed out in the middle of the floor and Atsumu was too embarrassed to carry him to the couch or his bed so he left him there. The next morning filled the place with the smell of fresh rice and that’s when Atsumu woke up to find Shouyou sitting at the table. He could barely keep his eyes open but somehow made breakfast for two. 

_Don’t think about it too much._

_Just start gettin’ rid of ‘em._

This photo will be deleted. 

**This action cannot be undone.**

It’s gone. There is no option to recover it. 

One memory erased. 

He could go after the ones before it or after. Take out the entire narrative of that moment in their lives. 

One memory erased doesn’t stop the doubt of erasing others because something awful tells him he needed that. And now it’s gone. 

There’s something horrible about this. Disingenuous. Deleting it all feels wrong. 

It’s like he’s acting as if Shouyou never existed. 

Osamu was wrong. He was so so wrong because deleting the first one was hard but getting rid of the second and the third and however many more will be worse. 

And he had the nerve to suggest it with the confidence of a man unscrewing a lightbulb. 

He’s not in the mood to pay for any damages but it makes him want to break something. 

“You liar.”

They make eye contact. A deadpan expression meets eyes seething with fury. Osamu tightens his grip on his broom. 

“You lied to me dammit!”

“What are ya talking about?”

_He’s joking. He has to be joking._

“The pictures! I deleted a random one because you said it’d be easy and now I feel like a piece of shit!” A migraine is kicking in. Atsumu’s head is swimming and he’s sure the alcohol has worn off since the pain is raw. 

The dizziness must be a byproduct of stress. Confusion flashes across Osamu’s face. “Listen now,” he says slowly. “I didn’t say getting rid of any of those photos would feel good, especially not right away! All of this just happened. Yer gonna feel messed up over it for a while but I just thought I could-”

“So you knew!” Atsumu counters. “You did this on purpose!” His foot restlessly taps against the bottom of the barstool. It’s hard to even look at Osamu and he tenses as his brother steps closer. 

“On purpose? I’m trying to help you!” 

“No! You see I’m falling apart and you’re trying to kick me while I’m down!”

“No?? Why would I do that?”

“Because you have the emotional support of a door nail!” Atsumu yells. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and water ripples through his abandoned glass at a rhythm as unstable as his thoughts. “I should’ve known going to you was a death sentence because you try to be rational about everything! That’s why you have no issues cutting people out since you treat everyone like an equation. Why should I even listen to you when you don’t know what it’s like to be in love? And if you stay like this, you never will!”

Atsumu does not believe in mincing words. 

It’s one of his greatest strengths.

Judging by the disdain of Osamu’s expression, it’s also his greatest weakness. 

“Sure, I might not learn what it’s like to be in love but at least I ain’t got a track record of ruining every goddamn relationship I’ve ever been in!”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. 

“You wanna say that again?” he asks. The question drips with contempt but Osamu is no stranger to confrontation. 

“Everytime, and I mean every time,” Osamu emphasizes, “the problem has been you. Do you not think to stop, look into the mirror and figure out what’s wrong?” 

_Look in the mirror?_ Is that not what he’s doing right now? Glaring at a spitting image of himself, both plagued by egotism and insensitivity and it’s hypocritical if he thinks otherwise. But if he assumes for one second that he fully understands the world Atsumu inhabits on an individual level then he’s a fool. 

“Look in the mirror?” Atsumu repeats in disbelief. “Samu, I know I’m not perfect but people walk into my life and they use me!” he cries out. His face is hot and he doesn’t bother wiping the tears streaming down his cheeks. “They get what they need and go! I didn’t care about that before until Shouyou came along and I thought we had something serious but turns out I was just a checkpoint to him! You don’t know what that’s like! You don’t know what he did to me!”

He can hear Osamu scoff and he’s another exchange of words away from climbing over the counter and grabbing him by the collar of his apron. 

“Are you saying Shouyou used you? Used you? Do you hear yourself?” Osamu is in range to headbutt him and the threat pisses him off. “Used you?!” he mocks again. “See that’s your problem! Yer always making shit about you and doing things to get under people’s skin when they care about you! This is why Shouyou dumped your ass!”

And that was enough. 

He had enough. 

No more. 

He wants to defend himself somehow, to find some way to fire back but his breathing grows heavier and his vision skews more and the fire that fuels his rage leaves ashes of cold. He trembles and covers his mouth because the nausea is back. He heaves but nothing comes out. Osamu looks concerned but it’s too late. His actions cannot be undone. 

Everything is dark. There’s no light because Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut. The flow of tears aggravates him because he’s more frustrated than depressed at this point. 

Osamu does not believe in mincing words. 

It’s one of his greatest strengths. 

Judging by the way Atsumu crumples in his seat, it’s also his greatest weakness. 

“Tsumu I-” he pauses, accessing the damage in disbelief. “Tsumu I take it back! I didn’t mean it!” he insists. “I really went too far and I didn’t mean it.”

“You meant every goddamn word.”

 _No more lies._ He’s sick of them. 

Footsteps from around the counter are heavy. Slow and purposeful. 

He knows how the game is played. It starts when one of them says something they can’t take back. It ends with the same one trying to calm the inconsolable. 

He can feel it. The invasion of his personal space. 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps. His breathing is still uneven, throat dry. 

When Osamu places a hand on his back, bloodshot eyes shoot open. 

“Tsumu I’m sorry. I-”

“I said don’t touch me!” 

He’s too volatile for any of that. 

“I just-” Atsumu begins again. “I wanna go home.” 

“Tsumu-”

“Our conversation is over. I want to go home.”

The sign for the onigiri shop is flipped from OPEN to CLOSED. Osamu’s few tries at smoothing things over fail one after another. 

Prior to closing shop, he calls Atsumu a cab. He’s too much of a wreck to leave by himself. 

That becomes more evident when he stumbles up the stairs to his complex. 

Time moves. 

Time heals all wounds. 

_Bullshit._

Practice continues to be weird. It’s the same with games but the sets are often a blur of flashing lights and zoning out during plays. He’s still not talking to Shouyou, nor does Shouyou make any advances to speak with him. Ignoring a star player gives him a chance to push his own plays at the expense of group cohesion. Increased usage of setter dumps is a shock to everyone until it becomes predictable and Atsumu has to rely on the other spikers. It doesn’t mean he won’t toss to Shouyou at all though. The chemistry just isn’t there. Quicks are simple business but even those aren’t right. 

Moreover, Atsumu hasn’t found a good way to cope with the curse of having to see him almost every day. Shouyou’s melancholy is fading or so it seems. He laughs and smiles at the others during a scrimmage but he doesn’t laugh or smile at Atsumu. Instead, he keeps his head down and occasionally a few words come out. Sometimes his mood visibly changes on his face and he runs to the restroom. Kyoomi has a habit of following him when that happens, hand sanitizer and pocket tissue in tow. 

It’s a process. 

Atsumu changed his lock screen but he can’t let go of his home screen. Taking the image out of context keeps his nerves at bay. For all intents and purposes it’s just a photo of a delivery bike anyway.

Despite being the type to clean his inbox like a ritual, he hasn’t deleted the texts either. He needs them and can’t say why. He knows having them is dangerous because it turns him into thread on a spool. He’s spinning. He knows why he takes screenshots of old conversations but if he admits to anything he’ll unravel even more. 

He needs an outlet. A distraction. Some kind of escape because volleyball isn’t cutting it. 

Winter creeps in early. Layered clothing fights the freezing cold as snow crunches underneath Atsumu’s boots. An index finger shielded in a tech glove pushes the doorbell. He exhales and his breath fumes in the form of a cloud in frigid air. 

The door opens and instantly envelops his body with heat. 

“Tsum Tsum! It’s so good to see you man!” 

Receiving a hug from Bokuto as a greeting is unexpected but he returns the gesture as best as he can. He hasn’t had physical contact like this with anyone for awhile. He’ll blame his teary eyes on the icy wind. 

_Bokkun always gives the best hugs._

“I tried making things cozy so come on in!” Atsumu nods, and slips his shoes off at the genkan. Bokuto’s apartment looks like it always does, the perfect blend of comfortable clutter and sharp interior decorating. There’s certainly a few changes but they’re barely noticeable. Not visually noticeable at least since the floor is warm against bare feet. Such is the power of professional money combined with a pretty solid investment. Not to mention the kotatsu is out and _oh does it feel nice._

 _“_ Bokkun, I swear I could just move in here!” Atsumu exclaims, curling up under the plaid blanket at the table. “You’d have to feed me though. Then I’d be _real_ content!” Bokuto grins. 

“Aww I’m glad to hear that buddy! But speaking of that, I’m not a good cook like Samu Samu so I ordered us Thai food tonight!”

Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Is it spicy?” he asks, having flashbacks to the last cuisine fiasco. Bokuto shakes his head. “Yours? Nah. But if you want an extra challenge,” he says pointing to himself “you can have some of mine!”

“I dunno about challenges or anythin’” Atsumu says, waving a hand dismissively. “But I appreciate the offer.” No more adventurous moves with dinner if he can help it. 

“To be honest, it should be here by now.” Bokuto scratches the back of his head, scrolling through something on his phone. A confirmation email probably. “You didn’t run into the delivery guy on your way here did ya?”

“Nope, though I didn’t think to look for anybody either.” A pensive mood hangs in the atmosphere and Bokuto goes silent like he’s overthinking a straight spike. Suddenly, his eyes widen like a eureka moment gone wrong. 

“Oh shoot! I gave him the wrong address!” 

“What?” Jackets and scarves hit the floor as Atsumu watches his teammate scramble for his overcoat. “I mistyped and I wasn’t thinking!!” Bokuto stammers, covering his head with earmuffs. 

‘How is that even possible?”

“No time to explain! I’ll be back!” he yells, slamming the door as he dashes out. Hopefully he won’t be too long. Poor guy forgot to change his shoes and really took off in a pair of fluffy slippers. 

_If he didn’t send it here, where the hell did his order go?_

Well, it’s a good thing Bokuto’s neighbors are angels that don’t steal food. Apparently he did mistype his address since he placed the order around the same time Atsumu messaged him that he was swinging by and the text notification had him so excited he made a mistake. Fortunately, he was only off by a number and not an entire district. The coconut soup isn’t hot either. It’s savory and a hint of sweetness balances out any overtones of spice. The fried noodles on the opposite end of the table smell amazing and if not for the hints of sriracha, he’d ask for a bite. 

_Can’t beat a good meal with good company._

“So is everything cool with the folks downstairs?” Bokuto nods, wiping a few peanut crumbs from the corners of his mouth. “Totally! Turns out they have a middle schooler who plays volleyball. I never knew! So we made a trade! An autograph for my blunder on the whole takeout thing!”

“How sweet,” Atsumu replies, dipping his spoon into the broth for another taste of chicken and cilantro. “You’ll have to teach the kid a few things.” 

“It’s funny you mention that! I’m always happy to take on another disciple!” _Typical Bokuto, the eager teacher of MSBY._ “But when we talked, you know what she said? Her position is setter.” 

Heh. How amusing. 

“Is that so? Well, tell her if she sticks with it, she’ll go places.” 

“Why don’t you tell her that yourself?” Bokuto asks. He places his chopsticks down to showcase a rolled up poster and a thick black marker. 

“What’s that?”

“Well,” Bokuto says. “I kinda promised I’d score her an autograph from MSBY’s setter! She doesn’t know you’re here so you don’t have to do it now but later okay! Don’t let me forget!” 

Signing for fans. It’s definitely something to get used to but it’s heartwarming to see Bokuto handle it with grace. It’s heartwarming to be there in general. After two cups of Hojicha and a generous sample of mango pudding from the fridge, used napkins and cheap dinnerware litter the table alongside empty plates or ‘happy plates’ as Bokuto calls them. As his host takes care of the trash, Atsumu stretches his legs out under the kotatsu. Today has been a pretty alright day in comparison to the drag it’s been for months. He hasn’t looked at social media once nor vagued on his private account about life’s troubles. He’s had a stellar feast with a stellar friend who will let him lounge around since he’s stuffed. God, Osamu ought to take notes on that. Or Kyoomi since on the rare occasion he’ll invite him to his place, all the man lets him do is clean after each other in circles and be subjected to lectures about where he can and cannot rest his head or his feet. But there’s none of that here. Listening to Bokuto hum random tunes and settling into the warmth of the apartment elicits a sleepy yawn. Heavy eyelids blink slowly and Atsumu is certain he could’ve dozed off by now. 

Bokuto is a tad bit too rowdy for that but he doesn’t mind. 

“I really am glad you’re here Tsum Tsum ‘cause now we can play games!” He’s hiding some kind of box behind his back and if it’s worth the little dance he’s doing it might be fun.

“Oh really? Whatcha got for me Bokkun?”

“You really wanna know?” he asks, surprise still tucked away. 

“The suspense is killin’ me! C’mon with it!” 

“Ahh I’m so pumped! I haven’t been able to get Akaashi or anyone else to play a full round with me but I promise it’s cool!” Bokuto exclaims. “Here! Close your eyes and hold out your hands!”

Without peeking, the box feels large, likely housing a standard game board. A gentle shake disrupts small pieces of some sort. 

“Go on, take a look!”

It’s….Diversi. The title is unfamiliar and Atsumu pauses upon spotting the art, if that’s what it can be called. Various geometric shapes with muted tones and equations paint the cover and it brings up flashbacks of elementary school. 

“What- what is it?”

“It’s Diversi!” 

_You don’t say?_

“Yeah. Yeah I can see that. What does that mean though? What am I holding Bokkun?”

“So you know those board games where you make words outta letter tiles? Well this game is special because it’s that same idea but with math! Think of it as crossword order of operations!” he says, excitedly drawing what are probably arithmetic symbols in the air with a finger. 

Atsumu doesn’t know much about Akaashi Keiji but he can name at least 10 reasons why no one wants to play that. 

“So whaddya think? One round? Pretty pretty please?!”

It’s a distraction right?

One round can’t be so bad. _Worst case scenario it’s boring._

Turns out that’s not the worst case scenario. The real worst case scenario comes in the form of Atsumu discovering his brain is so frazzled he messes up primary school level math. Also Bokuto must practice this by himself regularly because he completes equations in a matter of seconds and next thing, he’s up again. 

Okay. 8-½= 7(¾) apparently. Now to use the 3/3 in his hand some way with the rest of the tiles. _But 3/3 is 1 so why not just say 1?_

“I hate fractions!” Atsumu pouts. 

“Oh you don’t have to use the fractions,” Bokuto says, rearranging the hidden numbers on his wooden rack. “If I were you, I’d go for an expression on the lower part of the board for the triple digit bonus! Might help increase your score…. exponentially!” 

Shit. He still has exponents to get rid of and Bokuto’s wink and finger guns at a stupid pun do not help. It also doesn’t help that there are square roots and negative integers all over the place and- no he can’t be worried about that. Atsumu wasn’t big on science as a kid but recalls Occam’s razor. Only because the secret mathematician in front of him has the term written on a chalkboard in the living room under the note ‘New Words to Study.’ 

Simple is best. 

Simple is choosing an easy multiplication table with a touch of subtraction. 

7 x 9 - 5 does not equal 59. He can tell by the way Bokuto cranes his neck to the side in confusion, like Atsumu just broke the laws of physics. 

“Tsum Tsum, what’s 7 x 9?” 

“Is- is this is quiz?” Atsumu is sure he hasn’t sweat this much since the Jackasuke meet and greet a few months back. Bokuto strokes a nonexistent beard under his chin with his fingertips. 

“No no, I’m just checking. What’s 7 x 9?”

Atsumu pats around the front pocket of his pants hesitantly. 

_The calculator app can’t help him now._

“Uhhh… 64?”

“You sure?” Bokuto asks quietly. 

“No,” Atsumu breathes out. 

“Well, what’s 9 x 8?”

“Uhh seventy...something.” Bokuto leans over the board, assuming the micromanaging remedial studies teacher pose. The horned owl is a bird of wisdom that happened to discover a sly fox who’s all talk and no brain. 

No. He knows this. This isn’t calculus. _Thank god it’s not calculus._ This is all child’s play. What’s so hard about 7 x 9? Or 9 x 8?

“What’s 7 x 8?”

“Fifty….fifty uh. Fifty-six.” 

Why is he stuttering? 

_Why is he stuttering?_

“Is that your final answer?”

“The hell is this a game show?” Atsumu barks. “What’s the big deal? Ya think I’m stupid?” 

“No no no no,” Bokuto insists. “Not at all! It’s just well, okay so 7 x 8 is 56 right? Add seven to that.”

Again, _child’s play._

“Carry the one…” Atsumu says, drawing out the answer on a mental chalkboard. “Sixty-three!” 

Wait. 

Oh.

His shoulders drop and the realization comes to light. 

“Wait wait wait, oh my god 7 x 9 is 63! Minus 5 is...Bokkun, I think I might be stupid,” he whispers, face bright red and flustered. If anyone else kneeled over in laughter at him, he’d probably throw something at them but since it’s Bokuto, he gets a free pass. 

“Hey! It ain’t that funny!” Atsumu yells. “I didn’t come for you to poke fun at me!” Bokuto shakes his head. 

“I’m not, I swear! You were so serious when you put it down though! You’re not nervous are you?”

“N-no. I mean yes! I mean no! Hell no!” 

“It’s okay if math makes you nervous! I wasn’t good at it in school either so don’t feel too bad!” Bokuto says, much to Atsumu’s chagrin.

“Don’t lump me in the dumb pot with you! I’ll have you know I got high marks in math everytime!” It’s true and perhaps best to omit copying off of Osamu’s paper during tests. If one of them studied, both of them studied. It seemed fair at the time anyway. 

‘Well, I’m gonna make up for all my shortcomings back then with this next turn!” His number crossword rival cracks his knuckles and inches the board closer to get to work. “I’ve been waiting the whole game to bust out this one!” Bokuto declares. He’s already in excellent standing, many points ahead or so Atsumu guesses since he can’t remember the score. Wait. He was supposed to write down the score and that piece of paper on the clipboard at his side is spotless. 

If there’s no score there’s no evidence that he got destroyed at Diversi which is fine by him but the computation king across from him might not like that. 

The table vibrates, shifting a few tiles as a device lights up. It’s Bokuto’s phone and he picks it up before Atsumu can see the caller ID, let alone register that it’s a call. Bokuto stares at the screen for a moment before swiping to answer it. 

“Hey there,” he mumbles. Evidently, it’s also his turn to be nervous, an unusual anxiety emanating through his posture. “Um, one sec okay?” He pulls the phone from his ear to tap a button on screen and pinch a finger over the microphone. 

“Psst! Tsum Tsum,” he whispers. “I gotta step out for a bit. Please, make yourself at home but if you need something, I’ll be on the balcony.” 

A strange flash of sorrow combined with an awkward shuffle out of the living room and Atsumu is left alone. The game is unfinished and he has a feeling it could be that way for the rest of the evening. It’s so peculiar, the way Bokuto got up just now. He doesn’t know him to be the type to take a phone call in secret. Similar to the tiles on his side of the board, it doesn’t add up. Maybe it’s a family emergency. Hopefully not. 

Regardless, it’s none of his business. 

It’s hard to conceive how much of a presence a person has until they’re gone. Bokuto’s apartment isn't overly spacious but it’s a different vibe when he’s not there, loudly performing as the center of entertainment. The silence allows Atsumu to notice a few changes. Fan mail and various photos over the years have always adorned the walls like museum exhibits but some of these are new. At least, newly displayed. 

A photo preserved in a golden frame showcases the main four. The backdrop is an izakaya and based on the angle, Kyoomi took the shot, decked out in a black mask and matching sunglasses. In the booth, sits Bokuto in between Atsumu and Shouyou, pulling them into a sort of group hug. 

Atsumu swallows hard. They look so relaxed. So naive. 

It’s because they were. 

Staring at the portrait shakes him up. The floor under his feet does not move nor do the walls swirl with the velocity of a car ride so he’s not motion sick but the image makes nausea flare in his stomach. The analog clock on the wall reads 9:13 but it’s useless without a reference point. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s been here alone. Since Bokuto excused himself. 

His head hurts and the queasy sensation worsens. 

Water. There’s water in the fridge. He pours himself a cup from the filter and despite trembling hands, cold liquid runs down a dry throat. It helps and it doesn’t. The headache could’ve been a dehydration thing but the root of the discomfort is deeper than that. 

The balcony. 

It offsets Bokuto’s bedroom. Walking in there unannounced is personal, maybe a little disrespectful since it seemed like he had to deal with heavy affairs but there’s a nagging feeling that tells him he needs to go there. 

Atsumu hides around the corner and freezes when he hears talking. The room itself is dark and the moonlight illuminates Bokuto’s solemn expression and the bed behind him. The sliding glass door for the balcony is open and despite the fact that Bokuto has his back turned, Atsumu can make out a few words. 

“You haven’t seen him since huh? Outside of- oh.... I see.” 

Snowfall is starting again. A few flakes dust the ground. 

“I’m really sorry.” 

Atsumu moves closer, careful not to trip over anything in the room. He’s mere steps from the entryway and it doesn’t take long to recognize what’s happening. The thought beckons a sharp pain in his chest. 

“Yeah, I’d let you come over it’s just-”

Bokuto turns around to make eye contact but it’s too late. 

“Atsumu,” he whispers, lowering his phone to his side. The snow continues to travel through the wind and the combination of wintry drafts and heat rising from his face is a miserable one. 

“Are you okay?”

Tears spill from his eyes, stinging as they flow down his cheeks. The question may come from a genuine place but it’s unwarranted. Clenched fists fail to alleviate quivering lips and as much as he doesn’t want to be seen like this, he falls apart. Bokuto’s shoulders drop and Atsumu can sense a wave of sympathy rise when he presses the phone to his ear once more but it’s muddied by conflict. Disheartening conflict. 

“I have to go now. I’m so sorry. I’ll call you back real soon.”

A hand reaches out for Atsumu to hold. Arms open up to call for another embrace but it doesn’t erase the wound that has been dealt or the indisputable rush of information that’s hard to conceive. Shouyou’s voice was on the other line. He heard it. And Bokuto knows that he heard it too. 

“Tsum Tsum I’m sorry. I would have told you but-” Bokuto refrains, allowing the silence to be drowned out by uncontrollable sobbing. Atsumu has no words but he doesn’t need any because it makes sense. The worst part really is how it all makes sense because Shouyou has been friends with Bokuto far longer than he has and Shouyou met Bokuto before he met him. It makes sense and yet it was a possibility completely overlooked. 

One of the rules of being an ace is that the sight of your back must be an inspiration to your teammates. 

Jersey on or donning regular attire off the court, Bokuto normally embodies that reliable spirit wherever he goes. Even so, seeing his back did not instill a feeling of motivation or safety. 

As he bends by the waist and his ace catches him, he can’t shake the awful feeling that he’s been betrayed. 

It was a horrible thought, one he couldn’t wholly confess since it’s stupid given the complex set of circumstances. He’s fortunate Bokuto let him crash at his place for the night and sat with him through the whole disaster. He even offered to hear him talk things out, not that Atsumu had much he could say. 

Every chance he gets at a story, those strings grow unwound.

Unruly like his hair on days he doesn’t bother to style it. 

The incident goes unmentioned at practice which is a blessing but the aftershocks are present in small doses. Nothing about Bokuto’s behavior suggests anything happened but Shouyou walks on eggshells around the two of them. Watching him spend more time with Kyoomi and the others is out of the ordinary but understandable. Sessions carry on like that until an unforeseen move is made. 

Shouyou tosses to Atsumu. 

It startles him but it’s not an accident. He knows because each subsequent pass in his direction, Shouyou announces where the ball will go. His spikes are sloppy, touching the net or imprecisely hitting the opposite side of the court. Atsumu’s technique is rusty since they haven’t attempted the reverse quick in forever but Shouyou is too stubborn to give up. 

Another toss. Another unintentional parallel spike. 

Another toss. Another whiff due to bad timing. 

“Atsumu-san! It’s yours!” He drives down hard, trajectory shy of a line shot. 

It’s not the same. It won’t be the same but Shouyou keeps sending them over. 

The whistle blows, signaling a break. Atsumu rests his hands on his knees, taking in shallow breaths. That wasn’t his finest work at all but there’s time to rebuild if they’re somehow going to bring that back. First step is fixing the footwork on his approach. Then, he could have Shouyou review sets since he’s forcing it at an angle that’s unnatural. Yes, he can tell Shouyou how to adjust it now while the adrenaline is still hot and either of them have the tenacity to work together. 

Or so he thought. 

Shouyou disappeared too quickly for that. 

The hallway is quiet. Kyoomi stands on the far end of the corridor, filling up his water bottle. He’s pensive, murmuring what could be lyrics to the song playing through his earbuds or who knows what. Atsumu takes cue to walk over and conspicuously lean against the wall near the fountain. 

“Ya seen Shouyou ‘round here?” Kyoomi squints at him and removes an earbud. 

“What?” 

“Shouyou. Do ya know where he went?”

“Oh. He asked coach if he could leave early if that’s what you’re asking.” Atsumu furrows his brow. No matter how odd things get, it’s unlike Shouyou to skip practice or head out after warm ups. 

“Any reason for that?” he asks. The stream from the fountain promptly shuts off as Kyoomi screws the cap on his bottle tightly. 

“It’s Natsu-chan’s birthday,” he replies.

Atsumu blinks. Natsu-chan. He used to hear about her all the time. Meeting the family that one time was simultaneously calming and hectic since Shouyou’s mother is kind and Natsu was more rambunctious than her brother. When she wasn’t running him ragged in the backyard asking for ‘professional tosses’ she’d rapidly ask him questions about his life or trivia about Shouyou that only a younger sister would know. Despite all the energy that required, not even nightfall stopped her from sneaking into the guest room and scaring the daylights out of him under the guise of ‘spying on the enemy.’ 

Time flies and like the rest of them, she’s growing up too.

“Damn it’s been a year for her already,” Atsumu recalls. “Wait, he’s going all the way to Miyagi? Now?” Kyoomi shrugs. 

“I dunno. I guess that’s what older brothers do,” he murmurs. 

Including the necessary transfers, traveling from Shin-Osaka to Sendai would take at least 5 hours by Shinkansen and local train lines. That ETA might be shaved in half or more by plane but Atsumu doesn’t care to do the math. 

“Natsu-chan is a special kid but I know I wouldn’t go that far for ‘Samu,” he says, crossing his arms. 

“You live in the same city and share the same birthday dumbass.” 

“Hey I’m talkin’ hypotheticals Omi Omi! Besides, outta the two of us, I am the older-” Atsumu pauses upon hearing footsteps and the clanking of keys. Duffel bag at his side, Shouyou approaches the locker room and waves at the two before lowering his gaze and vanishing behind the door. Water trickles out the fountain spout as Atsumu presses the button to take a sip. 

“Shouyou-kun, no, both of you,” Kyoomi says. “You looked terrible out there.” The button releases and Atsumu wipes his mouth with the collar of his jersey. 

“We had an off day. It happens.” 

“You’ve been having a series of off months.”

However true that may be, Kyoomi doesn’t have to bring it up.

“I warned you about this,” he continues, stretching out one of his wrists. “Before you two crossed the line, I warned you about combining business and personal affairs. This is what it got you.” 

_So that’s what he calls it?_

“Crossing the line? What do you mean by that?” Atsumu asks. Conceptualizing it so harshly jabs at a temper he’s been trying to quell. Kyoomi’s expression is unresponsive. 

“You know exactly what I mean. Your decisions are your own and I wouldn’t have said anything but now that you’ve mixed your public image with your private life, it doesn’t just affect you or him. It’s affecting everyone.” 

“I know that,” Atsumu says. “So what do you expect us to do?” 

“Fix it,” Kyoomi replies dryly. “Shouyou’s pulling his weight. You need to pick up the slack.” 

“You’re starting to sound like ‘Samu.” Atsumu takes a step forward and Kyoomi instinctively moves back. The withdrawal contains a level of composure that’s irritating. 

“I’m just telling you the truth.” 

“Oh yeah? Something else you want to say to my face?”

“Not really,” Kyoomi replies. “I don’t know what you think this is but I’m not interested in a shouting match.” Atsumu starts to argue but flashes of his stressful fight at the onigiri shop come into view and he bites his tongue as Kyoomi walks away. 

“See you on the court, Miya."

He does see him on the court soon after but it’s so hard to concentrate when they’re missing such an important opposite hitter. It doesn’t help that during drills, the one worry weighing on Atsumu’s mind is a senseless what if: What if he followed Shouyou into that locker room and tried speaking to him about something other than volleyball? What if they could’ve held a normal conversation before he left for Itami Airport? That should be the farthest thought from his mind but perhaps that’s the consequence of _crossing the line_ as Kyoomi put it. 

While Kyoomi didn’t outright disagree with the relationship at the start, he was of the opinion that dating and teammates are oil and water. They don’t mix. At the time, Atsumu figured opinions are like assholes; everyone has one and more often than not, should keep it to themselves. 

The decision was made and yet, this is what it got him. 

He could’ve listened but he followed his heart instead of his mind which isn’t always a bad thing. 

Predicted by fortunes tied to tree branches at shrine visits, he’s been having streaks of terrible luck. 

The snow is melting. It’s at that intermediary stage where it’s forming dirty puddles of slush that stick to grass and pavement. A week after his departure, Shouyou returns brighter than ever. His enthusiasm is endearing and well missed but through clumsy interactions, Atsumu can’t seem to catch up. They don’t text but they do talk in person. Sort of. Shouyou is the main initiator since what Atsumu used to look forward to every waking hour is getting a bit...annoying. The change of pace feels fake, even if it’s coming from the most genuine person he knows. Small talk is becoming common and consequently one sided since there’s little appeal to manufactured conversations. Bitterness affects the quality of their dynamic on the job and off duty for a strong reason that can’t be ignored. 

Jealousy. 

Each passing day, Hinata bounces back. 

It's a hard pill to swallow because each passing day, Atsumu is sinking and god the city, the forsaken Osakan air does not help. 

He knows he’s regressing but where is there to turn?

He can’t speak to Osamu about it. He burns and rebuilds bridges with his brother all the time but reconstructing in this instance hurts his pride too much. 

It’s not fair to get Bokuto involved again. He already inadvertently put the man in a difficult position as the mutual friend which could weigh on him way more than it should. 

Omi Omi might hear him out but isn’t very emotionally forthcoming. He only sees the team side of events which is understandable. They’re all teammates first and foremost and the foolishness of their own actions would be tolerable if it didn’t put paychecks and publicity on the line. 

The city is truly a drag. 

Options are slim but he needs to run. Somewhere away from all this. Frankly, he needs to get away from Shouyou and anyone who knows him. Away from metropolitain commotion and the hustle and bustle that will inevitably leave him behind if he doesn’t find a real escape. 

_Where to go, where to go, where to go…_

The bus ride from Himeji Station to Hyogo is as nostalgic as it is atmospheric. He can smell musky pollution mixed in with the morning dew as he taps his IC card to the reader and slides his day bag underneath his seat. The time on the digital display reads 7:30. Muted rays of light crack a thick gray sky obscured by precipitation on the window and fog settling on the streets. Modern architecture and traditional homes whirl by, replaced with lush valleys and vast stretches of maple and cedar trees on either side of winding roads. Atsumu yawns as he flips a page of an old gardening manual he liberated from the family bookshelf years ago with no intention to read until now. Sketches of tools and captions for proper usage illustrate aged, water damaged pages. It all seems self explanatory but perhaps perceived difficulty in theory diverges from practice. 

Exhaust billows and the bus rolls to a halt alongside a wooden shelter, a bicycle rack, and a sign showcasing a faded map that’s barely legible. Atsumu gets off at a ghost town where the grass reaches his knees and people are few and far between. Radio towers are kilometers apart and internet connection is spotty so it’s a good thing he saved directions to his phone. If only he wore a visor since the sun keeps beaming in his eyes. 

After a jog near a riverbank and a hike up a damp hill, he discovers a house in the distance and heavy machinery in an adjacent lot. A tractor is parked out front with crates of commercial goods and market produce sitting in the freight of a semi truck. Sacks of grain rest on the porch and a bobtail cat hops on the cushion of a rocking chair. The hush of wind brushing blades of grass is quiet and the fields continue out to the horizon as far as Atsumu can see. He compares the postcard in his hand to the scene in front of him and ignoring the seasonal difference, it’s a one to one match. 

He approaches the door to hear the tractor motor humming and finds a note written on floral stationery. 

_Good morning._

_Rice is sown in the spring and the soil needs to be tilled._

_We’ll review the basics when you arrive._

_Let’s get to work._

_-Shinsuke Kita_

Overalls look good on farmers. Atsumu doesn’t think the same applies to professional volleyball players but his ever so pragmatic high school captain doesn’t seem to care. They’re a little small on him since he’s taller and the pants have a culottes style fit in length which hug the back of his calves. The outfit change wouldn’t have happened if he followed Kita’s advice and dressed for comfort instead of fashion. It’s not that his designer tracksuit isn’t comfortable either but more that it isn’t the kind of clothes he won’t mind getting dirty. Quite the contrary. The addition of the straw hat on his head seemed ridiculous but he’s in no position to complain since the brim blocks out the pesky glare of the sun. 

_Kita isn’t trendy but he knows what he’s talking about._

Mud softens against worn sneakers and dingy laces. They decided not to risk Atsumu’s low driving expertise on operating a plow for his first time working the fields so he’s on fertilizer duty. Sweat drips from his brow as he scatters handfuls of plant nutrients in organized rows. He pats his forehead with a towel and looks up to find Kita leveling a neighboring paddy. Supposedly, he’s been working since sunrise but it only takes an hour for Atsumu to consider a break. It’s hot, refilling steel buckets with compost is a workout in of itself, and worst of all, breakfast is wearing off. 

Lunch is a saving grace. 

Tofu hamburger steak isn’t a food he has very often and the ponzu sauce drizzled atop the meat tastes like citrus and love. The aroma of fresh sencha is a welcoming smell and a sip from a cast iron cup reveals the robust flavor of toasted rice at the bottom of warm green tea. A plate of manju solidifies the fact that Kita is a beacon of hospitality and Atsumu is convinced he’s either really starving or the food on the table is heavenly. 

“Kita-senpai, you’ve really outdone yerself here. You consider opening a restaurant one of these days?” Kita hands Atsumu a napkin to wipe stray sauce off of his face and smiles. 

“We’re not in school so you don’t have to call me senpai anymore,” he replies. “And no. I’m glad to hear you like it but I’ll leave the food industry side of things to Osamu.” _Of course. As expected for a business partner to say._

“I dunno. Cook like this everyday and you could give ‘Samu a run for his money.” 

“We work best together instead of alone. That aside,” he says, pouring another cup of tea. “How is he doing anyway?” Atsumu shrugs. 

“I dunno. You should call him and ask I guess.” 

“I did. Rather, he called me. The last thing I heard was that the two of you got into a fight.” Kita’s words usher in deja vu of the start to similar discussions years back, where he was the mediator of every physical or verbal round of fisticuffs in the halls of Inarizaki High. They argue too often to count. 

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised by that.” Kita shakes his head. 

“I’m not. This one seemed serious but I take it things will resolve themselves yes?” Disinterested, Atsumu bites into another red bean cake. 

“Yeah yeah. It’s all water under the bridge. Don’t worry about us.” 

“Understood. Why don’t we change the subject then? How have you been?” 

_That’s...a hard question to answer._ Doesn’t feel appropriate to open up at the dining room table. Atsumu glances at the quilted blanket draped over the sofa and the strap to the duffel bag with his clothes hanging over the armrest. 

“Can this wait until after we eat? There’s..kinda a lot to unpack.”

“Of course.”

Reclining on the firm pillows of the couch is a wonderful thing, especially after sundown. Atsumu’s entire body feels sore from lifting equipment and manually loosening topsoil. Relaxing into his seat, he watches Kita wave a feather teaser wand for the bobtail cat to swat at with its small paws. 

“I didn’t know yer a cat person. This one got a name?” 

“He’s a stray. He showed up at my door a few weeks ago looking for food so I look after him when I can.” Kita lowers the wand before raising it high overhead and the cat leaps in an effort to tap it. “Might be time to consider a name.” 

“I swear pets are adorable!” Atsumu exclaims, holding out his hand to call the nameless stray closer to him. “I’ve been thinking about getting a little buddy of my own around the apartment but I’ve just been busy and well-” He hesitates as white fur grazes his fingertips. 

“I haven’t been all that great,” he admits. “Life has been..really damn hard and uh, you know the deal already. I got dumped last fall which sucked and shit kinda spiraled but things are whatever you know?” 

“Your relationship with Hinata,” Kita begins. “It was a long one wasn’t it?” 

“Yup. Longest one to date in my book,” Atsumu says, petting the top of the cat’s head. “I don’t like thinking about it but I guess one day he got sick of me. We took a break and just when it seemed like it was on the up and up he said he wanted to call a quits. Ain’t that some shit?” He lets out an awkward laugh and meets dark, focused eyes. 

“That happens sometimes. Doesn’t make it any less painful and I’m sorry it’s something you’re going through but it happens.” 

“Sure it happens but it sure as hell don’t seem normal,” Atsumu retorts. “We were fine and then a switch flipped and we weren’t. And I felt so serious about him. About us. I really loved him. I still do dammit and when we went on break I thought he loved me too but he was just looking for a way out! It just-I don’t know,” he stammers. “It’s frustrating. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t good enough for him. Not that it matters.” 

“Saying you weren’t ‘good enough’ is pretty harsh.” Kita places the teaser wand on the coffee table and opens a canister of tea leaves. “People break up for all sorts of reasons.” 

‘Yeah and he couldn’t even give me a good one.” 

“You don’t always need a reason. As complicated as that can be.” 

Scoops of white jasmine and rose collect in the strainer of a cast iron pot. The fragrance is grounding but not enough to stop the flow of unwanted memories. Snapshots of Shouyou leaving Atsumu on a park bench with more questions than answers. Steam rises from the kettle and Kita lays down checkered handkerchiefs to serve as coasters. 

“This might not be the easiest thing to hear but,” Kita trails off. _“_ If you love someone, you should be willing to let them go. I saw it in a movie somewhere and that’s not to trivialize all of this but I think it still makes sense either way.” 

Atsumu hears this. He’s heard it before. He read it a book years ago at a time where it wasn’t relevant. At a time where it could ignore it. Now it’s back where everything is raw and he wants nothing more than to reject it. It’s not an answer. It’s not an option for a hedonist on the road to pull the emergency brakes. How can anyone expect him to drop everything and become an ascetic at the next intersection? Is it not unrealistic for him to plant his tires into the concrete and stop? To somehow bind himself to the driver’s seat of his car as if the inertia won’t launch him through the windshield?

Yes, he loves someone. 

But why be so masochistic?

Why does he have to throw it all away?

Why was he, out of all people, so easily thrown away?

“I...I don’t want to do that Kita-san. I don’t think I can.” 

Two cups of hot tea are poured into ceramic mugs. The cat lounges on the welcome rug at the door while Kita stirs in a spoonful of honey. Crystals dissolve and Atsumu traces the lemon zest around the rim of his cup with a finger. 

“Out of curiosity, what did he say to you when you broke up?”

_God, what did that bastard say?_

“Something about...he couldn’t string me along anymore,” Atsumu mumbles. “Said it wasn’t fair to either of us.” 

“It sounded like he cared about the two of you to end it if things weren’t working.” 

“Awfully generous of you to think so. He didn’t give a shit about my happiness.” 

“Do you hate him?” 

“You mean, does he hate me? ‘Cause that’s what I figured when he walked off.” A sip from a warm mug leaves the bitter taste of rose petals on his tongue the honey couldn’t save. He places it down on the coaster and finds Kita studying his face. The intensity of the stare makes him shift uneasily on the couch. 

“But do you hate him?” Kita asks once again. Atsumu’s chest tightens and his heart rate speeds up. 

‘Why are you- What’s making you ask that?”

“Your tone. And some of your actions up until now. You’re talking like you do.” 

Hate Shouyou? 

He knows he’s not good at expressing how he feels but that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

He could never be mad at him. That’s how he used to think. He said that to him whenever they had little disagreements. He could be annoyed but never angry with him. Never spiteful or callous or to the point where he’s raising his voice at him in rage. Those were the unwritten rules of their relationship. 

When bonds break, those same rules follow suit. 

“You sound awfully like you’re taking his side,” Atsumu says slowly, voice dripping with disdain. 

“Believe me, I’m not. If anything I’m here for you.” Kita’s voice is calm, composure unwavering like the way he dealt with the pressure of national level competitions in their Inarizaki days. The contrast makes him relent and take a moment’s pause to collect himself. 

“I...I see. I’m sorry.” 

“There’s no need to apologize. Instead, just say what you mean Atsumu. If you can’t be honest with me that’s fine but at least be honest with yourself. Really think about all this.” 

He has. He’d go as far to say he’s overanalyzed so much and yet, maybe not so clearly. Kita has the advantage of the outsider perspective, a luxury Atsumu can’t have in the line of fire. He reaches for the jar of honey and hesitates. 

Adding more than he was given would kill the flavor. The bitter taste is sobering but brings a kind of clarity. 

“Hinata is probably hurting too.” 

_No he’s not._

“I’d doubt that.” 

“You weren’t the only one to lose,” Kita says. “He did too. I’m sure he’s probably scrambling to cope in his own way.” 

_Scrambling to cope?_

Like how he shipped old shirts back to his apartment a week after the break up? Clothes that...Osamu delivered? Yes, Osamu brought the box to his apartment since Atsumu never answered those texts and...Shouyou probably didn’t want to see him. 

Or maybe he didn’t know how to see him. 

Then there’s the mess at Bokuto’s place where he called and Bokuto looked so...sad. The guy’s a bit of an empath so emotions stick like lint catching on fabric but whatever conversation he had on the balcony seemed downcast and that voice...The voice on the other line of the phone that broke him sounded...fragmented. 

Smiles on the court and anxious trips to the bathroom are incompatible. No wonder Kyoomi talked business. He’s a realist. It’s what he knows and he knew that neither of them performed at their best since then. 

He wasn’t the only one struggling at matches. Shouyou struggled too. 

Albeit this wouldn’t have happened if things stayed the same but what if that made it worse? 

It just would’ve been more pressure. More pressure for Atsumu to avoid in vain and more for Shouyou to struggle to break the news.

_Shit._

“Kita-san, he _was_ hurting and I-” Atsumu breathes out. “I was horrible to him. He tried opening up to me and I actively tried to shut him down.” Tears stain the sleeves of a borrowed plaid shirt. Frail hands tremble and his breath hitches upon another inhale. “I was a jackass. But I can fix things! I can apologize! I need another chance. I just need to talk to him. I need to-”

“You need to move on. It’s time.” 

The quilted blanket thrown over the backrest of the sofa wraps around his frame as he lets everything out. Months of stress, denial, and shame break loose and for once, he doesn’t fight it. His crying is unceremonious but cathartic, interrupted by sniffles and the cat crawling onto the pillow beside him. He plucks a few tissues from the box Kita offers him and blows his nose. 

“Kita-san,” he says, steadying himself. “Thanks. For listening I mean. I’ve got a lot going and I just appreciate ya lendin’ an ear for me.” Kita smiles. 

“Anytime Atsumu. Just please don’t put your snot tissues on the couch.” 

He nudges the wastebasket closer and Atsumu laughs. He shoots one like a basketball and watches it graze the edge of the can and crumple to the floor. Kita blinks, thoroughly confused. 

“From point blank range and you miss?” 

“There was something in my eye, dammit! I can mop later!”

“No need. I’ll just pretend that didn’t happen.” 

Nighttime settles in and Atsumu gathers the energy to help Kita tidy the living room before crashing on a premade futon. Farm work is tricky but the weekend flies by and it makes for a vacation well spent. 

He returns to Osaka refreshed and ready for game day. At the apex of tension in a match, a single well executed play can tip momentum in a team’s favor. In this instance, that satisfaction doesn’t come as a service ace, although Atsumu’s jump float is on fire today. It doesn’t come from a back attack, a well timed block, or an unexpected setter dump tapped over the net with ease. 

It comes from pure spontaneity. The re-debut of a move forgotten by the audience and certainly unanticipated by their opponents. 

Reliable as ever, Inuaki plants his feet for a solid dig. The pass is high, giving Atsumu time to consider their options until he sees a pathway open up. Shouyou’s toss brushes against his fingertips effortlessly, coursing through a solid arc. Rising up to witness it firsthand is incredible and Atsumu doesn’t think twice about his form in the air or the ball’s trajectory. 

He doesn’t have to because this timing, this place, this angle…

It’s perfect. 

Slamming down the kill shot and hearing the roar of the crowd is exhilarating. 

The reverse quick happens in the blink of an eye but it reminds Atsumu of something sacred. 

Volleyball is a contact sport. Every play is about making connections. 

He doesn’t have to tell Shouyou that when he’s grinning from ear to ear and their hands meet in a high five. 

_The magic is back and it feels amazing._

A V.League favorite izakaya in Higashiosaka is crowded. Clanking of glasses, television replays on the local news, and chatter create the background noise for tables bursting with energy. Sprinkles of aonori stick to toothpicks used to bite into steaming takoyaki, similar to the sesame seeds that garnish plates of grilled meat skewers. An oscillating fan blows an MSBY banner taped to the back wall and Bokuto’s chair squeaks against the hardwood floor as he stands up. He clears his throat and raises a tall glass of beer to the sky. 

“A toast! To my first disciple and the finest setter in Japan!” 

His declaration earns another round of applause and a teasing objection from Kyoomi. 

“You’ve said this three times already! THREE!” he emphasizes, waving the respective amount of fingers in Bokuto’s face. He quickly jerks his arm back, probably to avoid being touched even though personal space has already gone out the window. 

“Hey!! I’m really proud of these two tho Omi-kun! Didja see ‘em?” 

“Yes. I was there.” 

“But didja see ‘em when they did THE THING?!” Bokuto asks. He slams his glass down and motions a spike, a hair’s breadth away from slapping one of their loyal fans in the back of the head. He mumbles rapid fire apologies and the man pardons him through stifled laughter. Akaashi Keiji. He’s probably used to their ace’s wild antics. 

“Anyway, Tsum Tsum, have ya heard?” Bokuto points at Atsumu, grinning. 

“Heard what Bokkun?” Atsumu shouts from the other end of the table. 

“The freak quick is back baby!!” 

“And it only took him nine hundred and ninety-nine tries to get it too,” Osamu adds, sliding a snide remark in the midst of excited cheering. Atsumu nudges him in the side with an elbow. 

“Oi! Shuddap! I won us the game ya know!” 

“Ya sure did!” he says, nudging back a little harder but all in good jest. The atmosphere in the room is electrifying and a mere glance would make anyone think they rented the place entirely, as every seat is taken by players and devoted supporters. A few of Shouyou’s old friends surround him at a neighboring table and Atsumu doesn’t recognize all the faces but admires the way he lights up at being the center of attention. 

Shouyou works so hard. He battles so much on his own, puts forth so much dedication despite all the ups and downs and now he’s having fun in a sea of familiar company. 

_As he should._

“Ya know,” Osamu starts, snapping Atsumu out of his gaze. “It’s a shame Kita-senpai couldn’t make it.” He shows him a string of messages between him and Kita on his phone and Atsumu reads a short block of text. 

**[Kita-san]**

I watched it on TV.

Tell Atsumu I said congratulations!

“Tell him I said thanks and I get it if he couldn’t show. He has to make yer rice.” 

“But he’s his own boss. He could’ve took a day off.”

“And delay those shipments for yer restaurant?” Atsumu asks. 

“Oh. That’s true.” Osamu chugs the rest of his oolong hai and places the ice filled glass on the tabletop. 

“And yer always harpin on me about gettin’ drunk.” 

“Yeah yeah and we’re two sides of the same coin. ‘Sides, yer a bad influence,” he slurs, weaving in his chair. 

“Just don’t drink yerself under the table tonight. The bar’s got a no puking rule from what I hear.” Atsumu stands up and pats his clearly inebriated brother on the back. 

“Hey, where ya goin?” 

“Fresh air,” Atsumu says, motioning towards the exit sign. “It’s hot and everybody smells like sweat and booze.”

“Alrighty. I’ll keep yer seat warm,” Osamu says, resting his head on the empty chair. Atsumu gags. 

“Samu yer gross.”

“Oi Tsumu! Before ya leave.” 

“What?” 

“You looked halfway decent out there. Don’t let that go to yer head though.” Atsumu smirks. 

“Well, shouldn’t be too hard with that kinda ass backwards compliment but I’ll try.” 

Ducking underneath the curtain hanging above the back door, Atsumu exhales into the evening breeze. A few wayward cans of beer roll out of a knocked over recycling bin on the concrete and his eyes widen to find Shouyou leaning against the building, peering around the corner every few seconds with concern. 

“Hey Shou-kun, I could’ve swore you were still inside.” Shouyou whips his head around and gives a half hearted wave. 

“Oh, Tsumu-san! What are you doing out here?” 

“It’s too stuffy there!” Atsumu whines. “But I could ask ya the same thing. Everything okay?” Shouyou nods despite ansty moves and nervous fidgeting. The sounds of retching are uncomfortably close by, making him peep down the alleyway once more. 

“I’m fine! I promise!” Shouyou insists. “But have you met Sugawara-senpai?”

The name sounds vaguely familiar. 

“Hm, don’t tell me. Played for Karasuno. Silver hair. Elementary school teacher right?” 

“Yeah. I guess he had one too many so uhh-” Shouyou is cut off by ghostly wailing and a thump, followed by the hush of running water. 

“Suga-senpai!! You good?” 

His face is obstructed by the side of the building but Sugawara gives a shaky thumbs up from around the corner. Atsumu grimaces at the thought of whatever chaos is happening over there but softens his features when he sees Shouyou cheer on his old upperclassman. 

“Ya sure he’s doing alright?” 

“Oh he’s actually a lot better now,” Shouyou says. “But he’ll be okay. I made sure to pull his hair back with an elastic so it’s not in his face. There’s also a water faucet there and Omi-kun lent me some hand sanitizer to use once he washes up.”

_He truly is prepared for anything. Even in the most embarrassing crises._

“Anyway Atsumu-san, that play with the reverse quick was amazing!” Shouyou gushes. “I was so nervous setting the ball but the way you ran over and hit it like GWAH was so so cool!” 

“Ah, that was nothing,” Atsumu boasts. “Not as cool as you were!”

“I mean, I was pretty good but you were great today! And that got me thinking how I wanna practice something new next time! It’s like a minus tempo with a slight twist! It kinda goes like-” Shouyou positions his feet for takeoff and stops. “Actually, I think I’ve got a video of it on my phone! Wanna see?” 

“Sure!”

The vibrancy shining through Shouyou’s eyes as he scrolls through images is adorable. He mumbles about needing to organize folders later and Atsumu’s mind wanders to a promise he made to himselff. A promise best executed sooner than later. 

_Is now a good time?_

“Shouyou.” 

More furious scrolling. 

“Sorry Atsumu-san. It’s around here somewhere!” 

“It’s not about that. There’s uh,” Atsumu pauses.“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.” 

Colors on the screen cut to black from a quick tap on the phone’s power button. Gathering Shouyou’s undivided attention in seconds isn’t a first but it’s always a little jarring. 

_He’s one hell of a listener so here goes._

_Words are powerful. Better choose carefully._

“Is something wrong?” Shouyou asks. 

“No no no, it’s nothing bad so don’t freak but…” Atsumu takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve been pretty shitty to ya lately and I wanna do better. Nah nah,” he corrects. “I’m gonna do better. But more than that I- I want you to know that I um, I do care about yer happiness and wherever you might go in the future. Even if it ain’t with me.” 

“Atsumu-san-”

“You ain’t gotta say nothing!” he interjects. “I mean, unless you want to but just don’t feel obligated okay? I just wanted to get that off my chest. Put all that out there so you know.” 

Silence between the two is a multitude of emotions. Awkward. Apprehensive. But also calm. Eerily calm but Atsumu welcomes the wave of tranquility. 

“I appreciate that,” Shouyou says softly. “It… really does mean a lot to me. I guess there’s something I’ve wanted to say too then.” 

“Huh?” 

Beneath the incandescent glow of a paper lantern, Shouyou steps forward and glistening amber eyes meet warm chestnut, bound to the present. 

“The balance of everything has shifted but we work so well together. Even if it’s not the same as before, I still want to be a part of your life. If you’d let me of course.” 

Atsumu’s mouth drops slightly agape and a temperate sensation travels down his body. It shocks him to the core without agitation. It doesn’t suffocate or make him ill on the spot. It’s…liberating. 

_It feels like hope._

“Of course Shouyou-kun! Can’t guarantee it’ll be smooth sailing but I’d like that.” 

The two smile at each other and suddenly an opportunity believed to be erased emerges anew. The starting line is still scary but not as intimidating as before. It doesn’t mark Atsumu’s end. 

It defines a mutual beginning. 

A damp, heavy hand forcefully grabs the back of Atsumu’s jersey and he yelps, nearly stumbling over. The culprit reeks of alcohol and mutters something incoherent before a muffled “‘cuse me, I’m sorry.” 

“Suga-san! Are you okay?” Shouyou gasps as Sugawara rests his arms around both of their shoulders, dragging his feet through clumsy steps along the pavement. 

“Oh I’m all good! Seeing as you guys are all good too, I’m ready to go!” 

“To go where?” Atsumu asks. “Home?” 

“No stupid!” Sugawara groans, playfully wacking him in the back of the head. “Back inside! I say we get one more round! For the road!” Atsumu scowls, disgusted by the unexpected slap and nails that are digging their way through his shirt. 

_Doesn’t this guy have a class to teach?_

“But don’t you have to get ready for school tomorrow?” Shouyou asks. Sugawara shakes his head. 

“Yeah yeah, I guess but I’ll wake up just fine! C’mon! One more round! One more round!” he shouts, trudging the three of them towards the door. 

“Hey Shouyou-kun. Not to sound like Omi Omi but you still got that hand sanitizer right?” Atsumu pulls Sugawara’s fingers off of his jersey only for the man to sweep down and grab his wrist, swinging it like a child. Shouyou giggles. 

“It’s in my pocket. I can let you have some while we put in a few orders right?” he asks excitedly. 

It’s going to be a long night.

_Might as well make it a good one._

The digital clock on Atsumu’s nightstand reads 11:35am. An empty sachet of turmeric powder and ginger sits next to a bottle of water and crumbled receipt paper. Turns out the woozy late night trip to 8 Eleven was a lifesaver since the supplement is working a miracle for his hangover. Laying on his side under messy bedding, Atsumu looks at an image on his phone. It’s a wide shot selfie he took last night and aside from his peace sign and the middle ground, the rest is pretty chaotic.

Bokuto is a blur, reaching towards Kyoomi who is incredulously facing the wrong way, despite the numerous times Atsumu announced he was going to take the picture in the first place. Everything was loud so maybe he didn’t hear him or Bokuto but knowing the guy, he probably did that on purpose. Osamu is busy showing Akaashi a crude sketch of some manga character that he drew on a napkin while the editor wipes his glasses with a cleaning cloth. A blurry zoom in makes Atsumu wish he had a higher resolution to see how great or terrible the doodle turned out but he’s willing to bet his brother shouldn’t quit his day job. Then there’s Shouyou, sitting clear as day at the table, sticking his tongue out and flashing the signature MSBY claws. 

_Oh, the claws!_ That would've been a great shot to get. Then again, that assumes everyone would cooperate. Even so, something about the picture is pleasant to see. It goes against his creed but it might be nice to have it printed or maybe use it as a desktop wallpaper. 

But maybe it’s too soon for that. 

It’s hard, looking at Shouyou’s face and having old feelings resurface. 

Less than lovers. More than friends. No, no. Just friends.

The high five at the game crosses his mind again. He didn’t panic from the contact like he imagined he would in nightmares. The world didn’t end. The earth continues spinning on its axis, revolving around the sun. 

And yet it hurts. 

It hurts knowing that he still loves him so much. 

And not a day goes by where he doesn’t wonder if Shouyou loves him too. 

He’s okay and he isn’t, but it’s fine. He’ll be fine. 

As long as they orbit each other’s lives, Atsumu might never stop loving Shouyou and it’s a scary thought but maybe he’ll be alright. 

Because somehow. 

Someday. 

He’ll learn to let go.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> from the bottom of my heart, thank you kindly for reading this 20K atsuhina thought experiment! These themes were certainly a challenge but nevertheless interesting to explore. Fingers crossed that I was able to deliver the type of content you were looking for @jaythtr! 
> 
> I am but a humble farmer when it comes to tending to my fanfic crops but your general reactions/comments and/or kudos would be greatly appreciated! I have a little something to go along with this once we're all out of incognito mode so please stick around if interested. at any rate, please take care and enjoy the rest of the exchange works!
> 
> EDIT: This fic has an accompanying playlist that inspired me so much from titles for chapters to visualizing scenes! You can listen to it [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2lEeel0TtBW1YRBScMBKiu?si=lkpUFODxSIOUl_mpP8MBHA)


End file.
